DISCLAIMER: These characters and situations do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. I have borrowed them as part of my sanity maintenance.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written in answer to a challenge from L. You don't need to know the challenge just that it should, maybe, include realistic Cath/Sara sex.
THANKS: As always my thanks to L and to darandkerry for the help and encouragement.
CHALLENGE: Written as part of the 1001 Nights Challenge - fucking.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Between the Devil and the Ocean
By Debbie
Variety was the spice of life and you knew it.
All you needed in your life was the odd fuck, up against a locker if necessary, but quick, hard, and exciting. You'd no time for relationships but sex, yeah, that could sustain you.
And God were you the expert on sex. Oh, you'd no time for the damn romance, but you knew how to use it to your advantage: the wooing, the flowers, the stripping, the dancing, the pouts, the eye glances, all to get what you wanted, the release.
As Sara had once said, 'you use your sexuality to get what you want.' Well, you fucking did.
And, you were the expert, you truly were.
So, why did you still have that one fucking hard nut to crack?
One person left to conquer, one person only, and you were failing miserably.
"I want you."
She came into the locker room and sighed.
"Yes, what can I do for you?"
You smiled in the only way you knew how; your eyes flashing and your teeth showing. It was your world famous 'come and get me' look, always, always accompanied by the feline purr whispered in an ear. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"
You put your hand over the top of her right shoulder, holding her in position against the lockers, and slowly but surely you leaned your body against hers.
She growled. "Well, if you don't tell me, I'll never know, will I?
"I want you to do something for me, and only me."
"What?"
You leaned forward, making sure she has a good sight of your cleavage and, adjusted your leg position to push forcibly in between hers.
"That's for me to know, and you to find out."
She twitched, and you could tell this was the moment.
"Fuck you. Now get out of my way, some of us have work to do."
Suddenly, you were left staring at the grey, cold locker as her angry voice echoed around the locker room.
The music was playing in the background, a song chosen just for her, a song chosen to entice, and she was sitting in the perfect position, relaxed on the couch.
You sidled across, winking at Greg as you made your way towards the lounging woman, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.
Greg laughed and nudged Nick, and the two men turned away, but still watched out of the corner of their eyes.
She saw you approaching and waited, waited for the right moment.
You stood in front of her and saw no sign of acknowledgement. You placed your hands carefully on your hips and began to sway to the music. It was a beautiful, perfect dance, and the others nearby drooled.
She just stared towards the dance floor, until, as you moved to straddle her hips, she locked eyes with you and smiled.
"Hey, you want to dance, huh?"
Her words made you smile.
She waited until your smile changed to satisfaction, then she stood quickly, grabbed her neighbour's hand, and disappeared onto the heaving dance floor.
She watched you enter the break room and shouted out, "You ready for a coffee?"
She grinned as you were unable to hide the look of surprise in your eyes. Grinning back, you answered, "Yeah, please."
"So, milk, no sugar, and lightly whipped with a warm spoon?"
You felt your eyes glow; she'd been taking notice all this time.
Maybe now was the time.
You stood close to each other, arms gently resting in contact. You turned sideways to blind her with your favorite come-to-bed look. You felt the temperature rise immediately and saw as her eyes appeared to dilate in response.
Pouncing quickly, you carefully stroked your little finger against her thigh, it was a practiced move that always resulted in the other person following you back to the office.
You turned back towards her and stared into knowing eyes, saw the moment your intent was recognized, and left the room to wait.
Minutes later, you heard the tell tale signs of feet following you down the corridor; you chuckled.
Settled in your office chair, yet again about to open your blouse, you were startled as Greg popped his head around the office door and motioned for you to follow him.
"Sara's called a team-briefing to look at the Esposito case."
Your eyes shot to the ceiling.
"Oh, come ON!"
The crime scene was in the middle of the desert, and the sun was high.
Three of you worked the scene in the baking heat, and your sweat was running in rivulets.
You saw the moment Greg noticed her t-shirt was sticking wet to her heaving chest, and you knew immediately the young guy was getting nothing.
You wandered over to the other investigators and played the supervisor card. "Greg, could you take these samples to the truck and bring the Plaster of Paris back with you?"
She smiled at you as you crouched down on the sand, a gentle breeze just beginning to blow the edges of the footprints inwards. Her words were directed straight at you. "We need to get these impressions done quickly; the night's drawing in and the breeze with it."
"Yeah, I'll stay and help you; Greg can take the samples back to the lab and start the analysis."
As you stood from the desert floor, you placed your hand on her shoulder and squeezed almost imperceptibly.
She sighed as she felt the pressure.
You spoke with Greg, sending him back to headquarters, then quickly cleared the back seat of the truck and, leaning over to reach into the glove box, you then sprayed your body with the gentle perfume you always carried for moments like this.
As you walked back towards her, you locked eyes with her. And you didn't waver.
You then crouched down next to her, making sure that the outsides of your thighs were in contact as you leaned over to place the plaster to her other side. As you came back across, she had a lovely view of the sweat tracing down your cleavage.
She gasped.
"Did you say something?" you teased.
"Nope. Let's get these prints taken shall we?"
"Yeah, yeah."
You worked quickly and smoothly as you always did when you were doing what you did best. Every chance that you could, you played all of your winning hand; hot intense gazes, sweet tender touches, little murmurs of pleasure whenever the both of you came into accidental contact and best of all, the chance to thrust your pert little tush, as Grissom called it, in her face.
She just plodded on with her work, genuinely intent on the case at hand.
Eventually, the prints were all taken, notated, and packed away in the cases.
"So, shall we make our way back to the truck?" you asked.
As you walked side-by-side, you touched her hand firmly. In every game you played, there were always those certain moments when subtleness flew out of the window; times like this.
"You look pretty dusty there, huh? Why don't you slip into the backseat and get out of those dirty coveralls, and… if you're very good, I'll join you in a few."
You saw the flicker of interest in her eyes; sure that this time you were getting there. You winked at her, and nodded your head towards the backseat; the invitation obvious.
She nodded and you swept away to stow the evidence safely. Opening your blouse fully, you pushed your breasts forwards to show their best aspect as you slipped towards the rear car doors. She was missing.
She was standing off to one side, staring out towards the horizon.
You walked up behind her and wrapped your arms around her slim waist, making sure that you rubbed suggestively up her long back; she shivered. As you brazenly rested your chin on her shoulder, she pointed outwards.
"Over there, can you see the swarm of birds, and the smoke? I think we have another crime scene."
And with that, she strode off towards the horizon, leaving you to stare in wonder.
You grinned at your handiwork; this was the Pièce de Résistance, floating candles, essence of jasmine, the haunting music of Clannad, silk sheets, flower petals, and her waiting downstairs.
What a brainwave to convince her that a girl's night-in was the perfect answer to the horrible crimes you'd endured over the past week and, to acquire three bottles of Sam's best Chardonnay, the masterstroke.
What more did you need? This was the night.
The night you would get your fuck, fill your card, and then get back to being sort of friends.
"Hey!" you shouted down the stairs where she was waiting while you supposedly fetched a blanket to throw over your legs.
"Yeah?"
"Could you come up here, please, I can't reach the blanket."
"Yeah."
You smiled at her slightly slurred sounding monosyllabic answers. The wine had done its job; she would be fucked and out the door before she realized what was happening. You slipped into the bathroom to prepare for your entrance.
She entered the bedroom and looked around. Her shoulders dropped. Not seeing you in this beautifully prepared scene, she called out, "Where are you?"
"Make yourself comfy, I'll just be a few, and then I'll show you the blanket." You had no intention of fetching the blanket, now dressed in garter and stockings and, not a lot else, you were finally going to reel her in.
You watched as she lay back against the silk pillows, a smile on her face; you flounced through the doorway, ready to seduce.
She didn't move.
You gently called her name. There was no answer. You shook her shoulder and shouted again.
Nothing.
"Shit!" You couldn't help the expletive as once again your plans were thwarted.
The Chardonnay had sure worked wonders.
You'd tried everything in your arsenal; all the wiles, all the charms, all the plans, and all for nothing.
You downed your fifth beer of the night, one for each of your humiliations at her hands and decided enough was enough. If she didn't want you, you'd damn well settle for Hodges in the bike-shed.
Tonight, you were drowning your sorrows and had no intention of leaving this bar with somebody you knew.
You finally accepted the offer of a dance from some hot looking brunette, and you performed your ritual dance of seduction. Albeit lacking its usual enthusiasm. But it was enough, it usually was.
Just as the brunette was about to cave, she swept in and dragged you away. Her words shocked you.
"Oh, no you don't! You're not going home with some bimbo. You never know what might happen."
You pushed her off forcibly. "Don't you fucking tell me what to do; I was just about to get some."
"Yeah, that much was obvious, but what else, huh? Come on, she's not worth it. Let's get you home."
She drove you back to somewhere; the silence overpowering. You were quietly seething, and she was waiting for the moment you finally let it all go. It was obvious to the both of you that you were more than likely building towards one of your infamous blow-ups.
You held your tongue all the way to the hallway of what you suddenly realized was her apartment block before you cut loose on her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing; fuck only knows. I don't need your pity or your fucking home to sober up in, I kinda like being like this. I was looking forward to that shag, you know. But you know that already, huh? You're always slagging me off, saying I, what were the words… fucking use the sex to get what I want. Fuck you…"
She ignored your anger until you were safely through her doorway, and then she pounced. She pushed you hard against the door and thrust her face forwards, her retort cutting through you.
"Don't you fucking shout at me, I've had just about all I can stand from you. Don't think I don't know what you've been after. Five fucking times you've played me like only you can, five times you've tried to fuck me; well, now it's my turn."
She leaned forward and drove her tongue into your slightly opened mouth, using her tongue and her body she roughly drove your struggling body crazy. Long minutes passed until you stopped resisting, and then even longer moments were shared exchanging nips and bites to lips, ear lobes, and sleek clammy necks.
She pulled you towards her bedroom. When her legs touched the bed, she spun around and pushed you down onto the bed. You stared at each other, chests heaving, sweat dripping, and both with eyes blazing.
You held your hand up to stop her falling on top of you, for once unsure of yourself. "Stop, please. Not like this."
"You want me to stop. No fucking way; you want this, admit it. You want me."
She dropped onto the bed to one side of you; this time allowing you a little freedom of space. Gently, she reached over to draw back your soaked bangs; smiling when she saw your anger recede slightly.
"Admit it, huh, you want to fuck me."
"I don't want, I…"
"Say it."
"Fuck you... Yes, I want to have sex with you, but not like this, not when we're angry; we'll hurt each other."
"No, we won't. We're not angry now." She grinned. "Look, I'm smiling. Just say what you want."
You stared into her eyes and, for once, you could see all you wanted to see; no resistance, no animosity, just genuine life, and you caved. "I want to fuck you."
Her grin changed to a serious smile, but her words shocked you dead, belying all her eyes were telling you. "Well, you're not going to."
She stood and walked towards her living area. "I mean it, go to sleep; you've had too much to drink."
You sighed heavily as she walked away; turning over you felt tears of frustration, definitely sexual but something else too, something like regret, wetting the pillows. Yet before you knew it your breathing had evened out and you were asleep.
You woke sometime later to the feel of a gentle hand caressing the inside of your thighs. Opening your eyes wide, you were stunned to see her naked body resting to one side of yours; her weight resting on an elbow she stared hungrily down at you.
She smiled.
You sank back into the mattress, still half asleep, and despite being pleasantly driven towards arousal by the hand between your legs, you still had enough about you to ask a question, "What are you playing at?"
"I'm not playing at anything; that's your game. I want you; you want me. That's all that really matters, yes?"
Frustration warring with your mind's argument, you conceded, "Yes."
From there on in, she took charge. Time after time, she brought you to the brink using her fingers, her mouth, alternating in and out, she stroked and she bit, hard and rough, on and on she played you until all you could do was beg.
"For fuck's sake, fuck me." She once again withdrew, rising up to look down at your face. You had your hand over your eyes, and your hips were rising in large circles trying to gain some contact, some friction, some release from somewhere, from anywhere.
She smiled smugly and grazed her hand gently over your pubis, barely making any contact.
"Jesus," you cried as your stomach twitched uncomfortably and yet with so much pleasure you almost sobbed.
"Damn it, fuck me."
This time, she did, hard and deep, at last allowing you the friction and the pressure you needed.
Heart pumping, muscles cramping, voice straining, you were in hell; desperate for release, you hovered on the edge for long, sweet, precious moments before falling into her.
"Jesus, I'm, I'm… Fuck me."
You fell back onto the mattress as she carefully, gently withdrew her fingers, smiling you muttered another, much quieter, "Oh fuck."
Rising up on to your static thigh, she began to rub up and down, desperate for some relief of her own. Suddenly, you'd had enough, rolling over, surprising her with your recovery time, you whispered in her ear, "Oh no, there's no way you're going there. That was nice, very nice, but I think the words were, 'I want to fuck you'."
It took five more spur of the minute couplings before she allowed you to plan.
The End